


Promises

by eucleia



Series: Newtina drabbles [4]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, introspective fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28356705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eucleia/pseuds/eucleia
Summary: The first time he touches her, it’s soft, it’s gentle, it's a promise.
Relationships: Tina Goldstein/Newt Scamander
Series: Newtina drabbles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076660
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	Promises

The first time he touches her, it’s soft, it’s gentle, it's a promise.

No, wait, that wasn't it.

The first time he touches her, it’s strong, it’s confident, it’s sure. He catches her like he promised, scrambling to keep a hold on her, and he pulls her into him so she won't fall. It’s second nature to grab her, and it's only after his hands close around her that it hits him like a jolt and he realises how close she is. For a moment he looks into her face, their noses almost brushing, and sees the light in her eyes and the twist in her hair and becomes all too aware of all the places she's touching him. He spends hours afterwards thinking about it, remembering the way his arm felt around her and how she hadn't felt small, like most people did beside him, but _perfect_.

The second time he touches her, they’re running. He grabs her hand and it feels so right and it feels so easy that he doesn’t even think about it until they run into her sister and the muggle and he realises, _oh_ , and let’s go. He misses the feel of her hand in his almost immediately, but he misses the sure weight of her presence beside him even more.

The third time, he doesn’t touch her. He barely has time – _they were going to kill the obscurus_ – and the desire is fleeting, lingering long enough for him to hold his case out to her and hope she grabs it by the handle, long enough for him to wait for the brush of her cold fingers against his. She grabs the case by the sides, and he ignores the tendrils of disappointment because they don't matter, he needs to find a way to help Credence and he needs to do it _now_. He turns away decisively and apparates off the side of the building, ignoring how easy it had felt to leave his life in her arms.

No, it's the last time he touches her that's soft, that’s gentle, that's a promise.

It's not tremulous, because he knows what he wants, and what he wants is to see her again, very badly. He wants it so much it surprises him, and he can't leave without letting her know it, so he reaches out, soft, soft, careful not to spook her. He touches her hair, his thumb stroking her skin, just barely. _Till the next time_ , he wants to say, but he can't quite muster up the words.

He pauses for the second time, halfway up the ramp that'll take him home. He doesn't want this to be the last touch; he wants _more_ , and he can tell she's still standing there, watching him, and the seconds tick by, _one, two, three, four_ , and he wrenches himself from the moment and into the boat. Because if he made the last touch linger, if he stopped now, he would never make it away from her.

He gets on the boat and he thinks, _well_. He doesn't like the sound of the word _last._ Like the end, like finality. He prefers beginnings, and life, so he thinks about when he will see her again. He doesn't know yet what his next first touch is going to be, but he remembers her smile curving up her mouth and lighting up her face, and he promises himself that he'll make it count.


End file.
